


Defective Subject

by Draycarla



Series: Defects [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hepta is seriously fucked up, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Object Rape, M/M, Murder, Sendak by mention only, Shiro Ship Week 2019, Torture, the Clone thinks he's Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 02:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycarla/pseuds/Draycarla
Summary: “Since the arm's replacement, Subject Y0XT37 has started to destabilise at an alarming rate. Would you like us to terminate it now, or should it be used as another test run for Project Kuron, Lieutenant Hepta?” The technician handed Hepta the data pad. He skimmed the words and vitals; he couldn't tell what was wrong, and it would be a lie to say he cared an iota either.“Prepare it for a test run. I will make sure it doesn't escape.”-All Shiro wants to do is see the sun again.Is that too much to ask?For Shiro Ship Week day 7: Sun/Moon





	Defective Subject

**Author's Note:**

> I used the basis for the sun/moon prompt sparingly but this is part 1 of a two part little series I plan on doing. It won't be nice.
> 
> Seriously heed the tags because it isn't nice. It's not as bad as I could write, but I've kinda lost steam writing lately, but at least ship week pieces are all done! So back to mymm finally!
> 
> Take breaks and seriously note the tags. Hepta is vile and Shiro...well.

“Since the arm's replacement, Subject Y0XT37 has started to destabilise at an alarming rate. Would you like us to terminate it now, or should it be used as another test run for Project Kuron, Lieutenant Hepta?” The technician handed Hepta the data pad. He skimmed the words and vitals; he couldn't tell what was wrong, and it would be a lie to say he cared an iota either.

“Prepare it for a test run. I will make sure it doesn't escape.”

“Again?” The technician's lips twitched before they shrugged, “then we will create the set up.”

“Good. That will be all.” Hepta placed his metal hands behind his back, grinning from ear to ear. He did enjoy the defective ones.

-

When was the last time he'd seen the sun? Felt the heat against his pallid skin and warm his cold core? He choked back a sob as he pressed himself against the wall, gulping back the air that didn't seem to stay in his chest for long. He wanted to get out; go back. He needed the sun. He needed light; _real_ light, real warmth, real food and real company. He was starting to spy dark figures amongst the shadows, hearing voices and laughter when he was alone. He just needed one idiot guard or sentry. Just a single one to mess up.

Shiro rocked back and forth in his cell, pushing away strands of tangled hair. _How long have I been here for? What happened to Voltron, the others? How did they catch me again? I don't understand._ All these thoughts had been ruminating for days? Weeks? He didn't know any more. He felt his eyes move, flicking around the cell. He was either locked in complete darkness or under bright pinkish light. _Just like the labs. I'm back in the labs. Was it Ulaz? No? Maybe? Yes?_ It was different here, different to Sendak's battle cruiser. It felt larger when he recalled being marched about by strange sentries. They weren't standard Galran issue. They were different – new little insignias and details. _Did they belong to Zarkon? The witch? Probably the witch._ They carried different-issue blasters. He'd take one on his escape, if he could manage it. Shiro screamed, grabbing at his head as he lurched forwards, his focus flickering in and out, maybe. In the dark he couldn't tell.

-

Shiro punched through the metal chassis, sending the final sentry to the wall. It's body sparked as it crumpled to the floor in a heap, but Shiro had no time to think about what it looked like. They were too slow for him today; maybe all the attacks he'd made over the past who knew how long had finally fucked up their systems. Shiro didn't care to find out; he had to go. Grabbing the blaster, he ran. He ran and ran through silent corridors doing well to keep hidden. His retinas burned from the bright lights, but he couldn't stop to let them adjust. It'd take too long.

The place was definitely bigger than a battle cruiser; layout off but similar. Still, he slowed, inching closer to an intersection. He gripped the blaster tighter, finger rubbing the trigger like it could ease the bubbling anxiety in his gut.

He peered around.

Nothing.

_Thank fuck_.

He'd find a ship. Take it. Get the hell out of here.

Angry red lights were met with the sound of an angrier siren around him. Shiro sprinted down the corridor firing at the sentries running towards him. He growled as an extra-sturdy one got close. He leapt up, ramming his fist through it's face.

“ _Warning! Lock-down procedure activated.”_

“No!” Shiro snarled to the ceiling. He bolted off, ears pricking to the sound of metal screeching. _There must be barriers. If I'm caught between them..._ no, no he couldn't think what would happen. It'd be a blood bath. Death by firing squad – caught between a storm of blaster discharges that'd leave his corpse looking like swiss cheese. He shivered as he swerved around a corner, smashing into the side of the wall.

There.

Through a final set of doors.

Light.

_Outside!? The sun?_

The soft light looked promising, inviting. Escape was growing closer by the second.

A metal barrier was starting to lower. _No, no the Galra won't rob me of this._

Shiro ignored the burning stitch and his sweat-drenched skin as he ran. Ran for his life. Shiro threw himself to the floor, losing the blaster, as he skidded and rolled under the metal out into the fresh air; a vast difference from the oppressive and stale air of the labs.

He laid panting on the floor, the cold a reprieve against his skin. _Get up and move on. Find a way out_. On exhausted legs, he forced himself up and swallowed. He had to withstand the pain. His eyes found the light. _Move towards it, towards freedom. The light will take you back to the others._ Shiro repeated the words like a mantra as he moved forwards, feeling more confident with each step. He'd be free, be safe, feel the heat of the Olkarian sun, any planets' sun, the warmth of his friends-

He screamed out. Pain erupted through his left shoulder and he went down, clutching at his arm. _Blood. Blood from what? What hit me?_ He whirled around on hands and knees, looking for the source. It came from behind. Nothing there. Nothing anywhere but tanks upon tanks. He looked up. A sniper maybe? No. Nothing there. Nothing he could see. Fuck, his arm. The blood kept coming. The pain. He needed to stop the blood flow. He needed cover. Cover, of course. He was being so stupid. He scrambled to his feet and moved. A blast striking the floor in front of him. Shiro froze, whipping his head up.

“My,” a shot, “my,” another struck his arm again, “my.” Another shot that connected against his leg. Shiro screamed and writhed, more sobs than he could count escaping his lips.

“Where are you going, Subject Y0XT37?”

“S-Subject? I'm Shiro-” The Galra snarled and Shiro stilled as it approached him, the blaster pointed straight at his face. He backed up and up until there was a solid press behind him.

“You are _no one_ , _nothing_. Just another defect – failure - I must dispose of.” The Galra sneered. Shiro opened and closed his mouth, gaze locked to the pupils that held a sadistic glint. He'd seen that look a long time ago, far too long ago with Sendak in the early months. Shiro swallowed.

“Where's the fight, Y0XT37?” The Galra pressed the muzzle of the blaster against his forehead, cocking his head to one side.

“F-Fuck you!”

“Is that all you can manage?” They arched an eyebrow in disdain, “what Commander Sendak saw in this,” he pressed the metal harder against his skin, “I have no idea. So weak, so _pathetic_. Only able to flee like a coward.”

“W-What's Sendak got to do with this?” Shiro thought he was dead. He should be _dead_. The Galra just stared at him before his face twisted.

“Everything. But let's not get so caught up in the past, hmm?” He licked his lips at Shiro as he pulled the muzzle away, tossing it to the side, “someone was trying to escape, and we can't have you leave. So broken. So worthless. A defect of a defective breed.” He leaned down, grabbing Shiro's face with frigid metal hands.

“Can't wait to see that terrified face all over again.” Before Shiro could respond, he was thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, landing hard on his wounds.

The Galra stalked over slowly. Shiro tried to scrabble away on his stomach. He felt the wet blood against his skin – knew it was leaving trails over the floor. Nails were finding no purchase, hands clammy. _He was going to die here-_

He yelled in agony as a weight came down swift and hard against his spine, holding him in place. Shiro tried to look up, but a metal hand kept his face held against the freezing metal, pushing it down with so much pressure he thought his skull would cave in.

“You're the most cowardly of the lot. A pity.”

Shiro swallowed when the foot moved away and the full weight of the Galran sunk down over him. He writhed through the throbbing pain, trying to struggle free of the oppressive hold that wouldn't shift.

Shiro cried out in pain as his head was slammed down into the floor, spots of light dancing across his vision.

“I don't know why you want to escape. You'll _like_ this, Y0XT37. Maybe think of Commander Sendak,” the voice purred from above him. Shiro groaned through the daze as a hand trailed up his spine. He barely registered the fabric tearing until he felt cold air bite at his skin like ice daggers, but he did register the metal fingers dig into his skin, trailing down his back. He struggled against the hold again; it hurt, it so desperately _hurt_.

“Look at your filthy blood dirtying my hand.” The Galra yanked his head around by his hair and forced the bloody fingers into his mouth. Shiro instinctively bit down, regretting the decision as the Galran smashed his head against the floor again. The noise that left his throat pitched. The strike would bruise him. His daze returned and he pawed at the ground pathetically. Everything was agony.

He was vaguely conscious as the remainder of his body suit was torn away. He caught small stints of laughter or snorts; felt metal fingers drag more lines over his skin. Felt something hot and wet run over his forehead and down his cheek. _Blood: he was bleeding out_.

Hepta admired the tattered material and blood that ran over the subject's skin. This was how it should look; bloody and broken on the floor. It was unresponsive now, but soon it would be begging him to stop. Just like the other clones had as he choked them out or forced the blaster into their come and blood-stained holes. He licked his lips, he'd been saving himself for this time, and would make sure this bastard clone would take everything he had. They always did. He tugged out his hard cock, giving it a few firm strokes. Oh, he'd make it a good little receptacle.

“N-No! No! Get _out of there!_ ”

Ahh, there it was. Hepta laughed as he pushed his hard cock in deeper. It was tough because the subject was resisting, but it was so very tight in there.

“I do like having your bodies. So many first times I've taken from you, Y0XT37,” Hepta sneered as he snapped his hips back, the subject's strained scream spurring him on. He glanced down, grinning at the blood. So torn up. A delicious red shone back at him and that metallic scent.

Hepta snarled and grabbed both hips in his hands, digging his fingers in so hard he wondered how quickly the bruises would form. He kept spearing the clone, grinding his hips against the clammy skin, and his payment was sharp cries and sobs to stop. Every plea ignored to chase his own pleasure.

“Shut your mouth,” he snarled back-handing the clone's skull. It whimpered sharply and the body stuttered out another pathetic sob. Hepta could care less as he took and took, feeling the tight walls constrict around him. The subject brought this all unto itself. It left the Galra, it knew what happened to traitors. It should never have been so good at fighting if it didn't want to survive to become of use. Hepta purred at the warmth against his cock, the blood-slicked hole finally easing for him. The subject dared tried to make it difficult, but he was breaking. The cumbersome whimpering had subsided to inconsistent ravings.

“You enjoy this, don't you?” Hepta crowed, but the subject just kept muttering, body twitching. He growled as he dug his metal fingers in, twisting the skin, “answer me!”

“Move towards it, towards freedom. The light will take you back to the others.”

“What are you blabbering about?” Hepta pulled out and flipped the subject over. Blood ran from an angry-looking wound on its forehead and it held a vacant look in it's eyes. It repeated the phrase back at him, its head rolling to the side. The eyes widened for a tick, and it tried to roll over. Hepta followed it's gaze. _Oh, the light._ He loosened a growl from the back of his throat and moved towards the discarded blaster.

He grabbed the subject by the leg and dragged its limp body to the railings.

“Stand.” Hepta ordered. It remained unresponsive as it stared over the precipice.

“Sun. Warmth-” Hepta stamped on it's hand, electing a screech of pain at the disruption. It was more broken then they thought, and this pause was making his cock soften. With another growl he hoisted the subject up. This time he'd look at it's face as he used that abused hole some more. Hepta pushed himself back inside. Using the railing as support, he bent the receptacle over it, making sure to hold it's throat in place.

“If you move, I let you fall to your death.”

It responded with a cracked whimper as Hepta squeezed its throat, holding the lower half in place.

The appeal and self-disgust he found himself considering as he fucked the subject made Hepta come faster then he'd have liked, but he persisted onwards. The subject's head lolled pathetically to the side. The meat still had a pulse; it was still warm enough. The blood that dripped from the wounds was clearly siphoning the heat and life away, but after this, he'd make sure he truly disposed of the defect.

He languidly took his time nonetheless. The hips bruised nicely, and the throat looked pretty with his handprint seared there. He purred as he leaned down, tearing at the skin with teeth that left the flesh open. The subject tried to wiggle free, but like the muttering, it was slowly dying. What a pity. With a final push, Hepta came a second time. The body around him tensed for a tick, and Hepta smirked down at the softening erection that leaked pre-come all over it's stomach. He grabbed it, twisting the thing and getting the subject to make _some_ noise _._

“Your body would rather feel pleasure then let itself survive? Such a vile little animal, aren't you, Y0XT37?” Hepta got no verbal response, just stuttered incoherent bullshit. He struck the subject across the face in anger and grabbed the blaster he left leaning against the other railing.

“You're supposed to beg and plead!” Hepta snarled, hackles raised as he struck the subject in the jaw with the butt of the blaster. It clutched its jaw with the prosthetic, spitting teeth to the floor along with more blood.

“How you could have been the Commander's favourite is beyond me! You are _weak and disgusting!_ ” Hepta fired another shot into the other leg, earning another scream. Such a sweet scream.

He needed to hear more.

He disabled each limb in turn with more shots, but from the blood loss, the subject would likely be dead soon. Hepta grabbed the pallid body and hoisted it to the railing, looking at it dead in the paling grey eyes.

“You thought that was a star? You thought you would find freedom? You _never will._ ” He pulled away and dragged the blaster up it's chest, before pressing it against the bloody jaw. Those eyes widened in terror as Hepta slowly pushed it inside as far as it would go, the subject spluttering around the metal. He watched tears bead in the corners of its eyes as it struggled.

“I can't wait to do this all over again.” The grip on Shiro loosened-

_Bang_

Hepta watched the body slip over the railing, bloody spit and gore dirtying the end. One clean shot through back of the throat.

It was glorious. It was exciting him again.

It'd burn up through the atmosphere below leaving no trace. All Hepta had was his memories to ease him to sleep at night.

The subject deserved everything it got.

Especially since the original had vanished.

Just like the Commander who had treated him so above his station.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> The next one would see a bit more information, but yeah, that one will lead us to a very bad ending generally.  
> I wanted to keep Hepta's motivations vague, honestly, cause he has no reason to tell the subject much at all. Still leaves a gross taste in my mouth though. It's taken longer than it should to write this as well. SIGH.
> 
> The centred bits were there for a reason as well. I wanted to draw your attention away just to the regular flow like wait what.  
> I do appreciate this can be jarring for some people but yeah, purposeful stylistic choice.
> 
> Thank you though for reading!


End file.
